Scars of The Bat
by TrigunTri
Summary: POST DH STORY! What if Dumbledore had more then help then Snape? What if Snape was granted another chance at life? Who would deem Severus as someone worth saving? Will he find love and friendship in this new life or have everything fall apart?
1. Phoenix Topper

**NOTE: THIS IS A SPOILER FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS. DON'T READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter.

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A figure emerged from the shadows of the Forbidden Forest, a black cloak draped over the shoulders. The only thing that made the figure stand out from the darkness of the night sky was the little white satchel in its arms. The figure held the bag in dear life, if it fell to the ground the figure's existence would cease to be. In some sense, that was the case. The only sound the was heard as the gentle foot steps and the rushing sound of wind.

The figure reached it's destination and raised a hand, covered by a solid black glove, and pushed forward on the door in front of it. The figure stood unmoving when the door fell off it's hinges and to the ancient floor below, the dust casting upwards. The dust of years passed filled the figure's lunges, causing a fit of coughs and hacks to fill the old house that was known to the world as the Shrieking Shack.

"Didn't bother to have someone clean this place?" a voice of a female came from the hood. The woman waved her hand in front of her cloaked mouth, trying to send off the remaining dust.

The woman walked on top of the fallen door, creaking as she went. She jumped slightly on the years of poor care floor, creaking as it's door brethren. The windows were grim and covered in boards of wood or dust or whatever remaining parts of an creature that lived here previously. Furniture, from chairs, sofas, tables and even a bust of a stature were either covered in thick dust or a sheet.

A lump of black decorated the floor, spurting crimson liquid near the top. It was a body. Others might cringe at the sight of a newly fresh dead corpse; the woman didn't show any signs of discomfort. It seem like the man belong to this over run house, everything dead inside besides the insects and small rodents that took residence here. But, as the woman walked towards the fallen figure, she saw or found neither one.

The woman slump to her knees when she was close enough to the man. She turn the body over, finally cringing at the sight of the almost torn away neck. Long and lack black hair framed the pale, almost pearly, white face. She wasn't sure if it was from natural reasons for the man to have ghostly white face or by the blood lost. If it wasn't for the open eyes, she was sure this man was asleep. She reached forward and caressed the man's forehead like a lover would do to soother their partner. The woman stopped and let her hand turn limp and fall off the cold body.

There was only a brief silence as the eyes under the hood looked down at the figure below her. She finally spoke, her voice a strange accent from the country around her, "Things I do for old friends." she breathed, her voice sounding tired.

The woman put down her satchel in between the man and herself. Reaching in, she pulled out two silver vials and what appeared to be a golden ring. She reached for the vial with Latin wording on it, and brought it towards her hood. The top disappear for a minute only to be brought back down, the topper gone. The woman turn her head away from the man and spat out the waxy topper. It rolled off, collecting dust, and hid itself under a chair.

The open vial in her hand contains a white, with a blue hue, liquid inside. With her free hand, she craned the head of the man towards her. Parting his cold lips open with the edge of the vial, the woman practically had to force it down his throat, only a few tinkles escaped from the corners of the mouth. She watched as the large wound in the side of the neck heal, leaving no evidence that it was ever there.

She did the same to the first vial to the other one, this time filled with burning red liquid. It looked like it held burning flames in the vial. A ruby and golden phoenix, it's wings spread out wide, was used as a topper as the first one had only a plain old topper. She spat out this fancier topper into her gloved hand and place it back into her bag. The woman open the man's mouth wider, not wanting to spill the liquid like the first one. She tipped the vial into the man's mouth, the red liquid almost sending out a song-like tune as it went down the man's throat.

The woman jumped in her spot as she heard rasped breaths and coughing. She seemed in joy as she saw life come back into the ebony eyes. The eyes looked around wildly, looking around the room, the owner trying to locate where he was. The coughing and hacking cut off as the eyes rested on the woman, trying to look into her hood to see her face.

"Who-?" his cracked voice tried to sound before he was cut off.

The sound of foot steps were heard from the paper thing walls. The woman looked over her shoulder, her shoulders high in fear. She saw the tops of two heads from the blurry window to her right. The woman quickly whipped her head around and stared back into the man's face. She threw her empty silver vials in her bag, hanging it over her shoulders. Reaching down, she took the wrist of the man. With her free hand, she positioned the golden ring over his ring finger.

"Trust me," she breathed before slipping the ring onto his finger. When the ring nestle in it's place, it made the pair leave the Shrieking Shack in a blur of black.

Just as the two disappear, two more forms appeared at the door way. Much like the earlier pair, it was a man and woman. A tall man stepped over the door, his black and unkempt hair framed his face with a pair of glasses balancing on his nose. A woman followed after him, her hair fizzy and brown. They looked no older then eighteen but their faces were pale and grim. They both looked over the house, startled to find it empty.

The woman reached forward and laid a hand on the shoulder of the man in front of her. He stiffed, startled by her hand. He finally let his shoulders slack and fall down.

"We have to go, Harry," she said, almost a whisper, "The others could be worried."

Harry shook his head, not listening to his friend's words. "No, Hermione, we came here to retrieve Snape's body and…and found nothing!" he screamed in rage, slamming his closed fist against the wall behind him.

Hermione's grip tighten around Harry's shoulder, trying to sooth the ragging beast in her friend. "I…I know that you want his body to rest but you have to take in account that maybe someone else got his body before us. Harry, it's been nearly a day since h-he died," her voice became softer then before, "Anyone else from the Order has taken his body. We'll go search for it, if anyone else has taken it, when we get rest." she tried to reason with him.

He seemed to understand. His green eyes hover where the spot where the body of Severus Snape once laid. He forced his eyes closed, not wanting to see bloody spot anymore. Harry couldn't raise his wand and remove the blood not now, or ever. He sighed and turn back to Hermione.

"Come on, we need to see the others." he half order, leading the way out of the Shrieking Shack, his friend behind him.

Was it so hard to bury the body of a hero of the war?

Author's Notes: Just something I want to do. I don't know if I will continue the story, just giving it a test. If you want to see more, just leave a review and tell me what you think should happen next.


	2. The Master and The Professor

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Harry Potter.

Author Notes's: Yes, this is the second time I posted this chapter but I changed it around. I have been busy these past few days and couldn't get to this story or my others. I added a new difference at the end, when Severus enters the office so don't get confuse with this chapter, please. I will update anytime I can.

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There was nothing, absolute nothing. Just darkness that filled the void around him. Yet, he tried to move his limbs but they protested against it, causing sharp pain to run down his spine. If he could speak, he would hiss in pain or bark to find someone in this endless plain of nothingness. Where in the world was he? Was he even on mortal plains?

A bright light shone on his face, blinding him. It dimmed and he could see a figure floating towards him. His heart gave a sharp leap, either in joy or fear he didn't know. The figure hovered over him, yet all he could tell of it was the long gown and the long hair trailing down the figure's back. The figure reached out a hand to him, the light allowing him to the feminine features of the figure of a woman now. His heart gave another jump as he saw that the hair was long and dark red, as red as the flames of Hell. Yet, all he could feel was peace and joy; they were strange feelings to him. There was no way that the demons of Hell could bring such feelings to him. This…this must be heaven! There had to be a mistake if he was being sent there.

He found some strength and reached a hand forward to the one that was coming towards him, ready to be taken to the eternal resting place. As the woman near closer, he recognized the outline of the face. His heart was getting a work out as it jumped again. This must be Heaven if she was here!

"L-Lily," his voice was crack and hurt his voice.

Instead of a sweet hand engulfing his, he saw the hand swung back and slap him across the face. The force of the slap ended the darkness and the figure to disappear. He felt something soft and warm surrounding him. His cheek stung and burn. Did angels of Heaven slap?

He heard the sound of crackling fire and felt cold fear run down him. He was truly in Hell if they sought fit to see him suffer for see a brief appearance of its counterpart. But, Hell didn't have the sound of a ticking clock and a chair being pushed back, following of feet stamping off and a door slamming. Nor, did it have a disembodied voice muttering curses as the sounds carried off.

He force his eyes open, the new light of the fire blinding him for a minute. He appeared to be in a bed, if he knew right. There was a chair beside the bed, the cushions reforming back to its original state. He heard hear fire in a fireplace but he couldn't see where the said fireplace was. The curses continue from far away, but they didn't sound like hexes or spells.

He pushed himself up, sitting up on the bed. His body felt worn and weak, pain shooting up at each movement he made. Flashes of memories flash through his black eyes, sending him to slap a hand in his neck. He felt around for a jagged slash across his neck, but he found none. Nothing but a smooth but dry skin. He was supposed to die! He was alive? How?

His waken state stopped the curses to echo off the walls. The door open and ran in a figure. His hand sought to find his wand but found it not on him. More importantly, he had nothing on! The sheets gather around his waist while the top half was free and bare to the chill in the air. The figure slowed down their steps when he casted a cold glare at their direction.

The figure was a woman carrying a tray of a pot and a china cup. She had nearly had pale skin, though not as white as his, though coming close. Her short black hair was pulled back in a short bun. She wore a simple dress, with a white apron over the garment. She lowered her head as she near closer to him. Laying the tray on a table near the bed, she smoothed down her skirt before turning to face him.

"The Master would like to see you when you eat your breakfast," she said, her voice meek, "There are clothes in the wardrobe if you wish to change. The Master wishes to see you soon, Mr. Severus."

She bowed, her apron touching the floor. He, or Mr. Severus, was reminded of a house elf at her display. She turn and shuffled, nearly rushing, out of the door.

Severus was left alone again in this room. He still didn't know where he was, but the occupants knew of him, at least his name. Master? He scoffed, sounded like this man had too much of an ego that could make everyone call him 'Master'. It was worst then being force to call someone Lord.

Just by that simple word brought more memories to his mind. All he could remember was being bitten by Nagini, the pitiful snake, and giving Potter some part of himself; his memories. Then, what happen next? Oh, yes, he woke again and this time he was alive if only barely. There was a woman, at least what he could tell by the voice, tell him to trust her. Again, he scoffed. If she wanted him to trust her, she needed to tell him what was going on. The servant woman wasn't the one who worn the cloak and hovering over him in the Shrieking shack. The servant girl had more of…an French tune to it. While the one in the Shack had an American accent to her voice, though he could hardly tell from the hushed voice.

Severus pushed himself forward and eased his legs over the side of the bed. His long legs went out, his bare feet touching the cold tile, upon further inspection, it was marble. Right, this Master fellow had bad taste and too much money to throw away money to buy floors that could be dirty up later. He bit the inside of his cheek as he pushed himself up and nearly fell forwards when he stood on unused legs. Merlin, how long did he slept?

He didn't bother to cover himself up; he was the only one in the room. Severus eased himself to the table where the tray sat. It wasn't much of a breakfast by his standers. It was a piece of toast, no doubt luke-warm now, with a slob of red jam. Other then that, the cup was full to the brim with tea. Lifting it from the tray, he held the cup under his large nostrils, taking in a deep breath. His powerful nose detected nothing poison-ness or awuful. Taking another sniff, he found traces of strength potion. You couldn't have more then a decade of Potion making without detecting certain ingredients. His captors, as he knew nothing on whether to trust them or not, seem fit to keep his strength from buckling down. Severus took a large sip of it anyway; he needed something to keep him up. He instantly felt his body being filled with a new vigor then before.

After that pitiful breakfast they served him, Severus went to the bare wardrobe. It stood out from the highly expensive room, for it was a bare square wardrobe. No had no fancy markings or colorful designs. He took in little comfort; at least something in here was normal. The inside of said wardrobe was much different. The clothing was defiantly for men but for men much younger then him. Swishing through each 'shirts', they had a crude or pitiful words and pictures on them. These people, whoever they were, knew him but not so much.

Severus found more appropriate attire for him to wear. It was just a long sleeve black turtle neck and gray slacks. He found a pair of underwear and socks in the bottom drawers of the wardrobe. He prefer to wear his long and dark frock coat and matching garments. But, these would do for now. Slipping his feet in, finally something his style, black dress shoes, he made his way to the door. The shoes were comfortable and in his size. Thank Merlin he didn't need to wear overly large shoes or too small pairs.

Pulling the door open, Severus walked out of the only room he felt was safe. The outside, like the wardrobe, was different then he except. People in all shapes, colors, and ages. They passed by him, only some giving brief glances at him before walking forward in the hall way when he now stood.

In front of him, across the hallway, the wall was covered entirely of panes of color glass. There were only inches apart, a statue or bust in the middle, from each panel of stain glass, each depicting a story or a famous legend. One would be impressed by the works of art but Severus; it only showed how the owners were throwing away money.

The crowd finally cleared, most going into rooms along the long hall way. Severus was left standing in the threshold of his supposed room. He was cut off by the silence by the sound of running feet coming right towards him. He didn't bother to wait for this person to catch up with him. He strolled towards the upcoming person.

The person finally found him; it was the woman servant from before. She looked out of breath and her fluster cheeks proved she ran for awhile. She huffed and puffed, trying to straighten her front the best she could.

"Mr. Severus-" she began but was cut off.

"Mr. _Snape_," he corrected her, "Or Professor Snape would do."

Her cheeks redden, "Sorry, Professor Snape. But, the Master is currently in a meeting, so you will have to wait to see h-"once again, Severus cut her off.

"I demand that you take me to your 'Master' this instant! I will wait a second longer while he keeps me in the dark any longer." He barked, causing the girl to wince. He took in pride in the fact he still could cause fear in people.

The servant bit her lip and looked around nervously. Once she found, or lack of, in the hallway where they stood, she turn back to him. "A-Alright, P-Professor Snape. P-please follow me." she stuttered and turn her back to him and began to walk.

Severus followed her through the hall way, up many flights of stairs. If he counted right, this building or manor he stood was about five stories tall. As he and the servant walk, he saw more and more people walking past him, turning to each other and whispering and pointing to him. Severus return each one of them with a scowl, making them flinched or rush off.

They finally reached the last level of the long journey. If possible, this floor was more decorative then the others. Thankfully, the area was free of any living things, though he swore he seen movements around each turn. The girl finally stopped in front of a door with a large golden curved dragon as a knocker. Severus felt for certain that the girl would reach up and pull on the ring. But he was surprise to see the girl raising a fist and knocking several times on the door frame. Severus tried to catch what rhythm the girl had on her knocking but she went too fast for him to tell.

The door clicked and swung open on it's own. Severus caught a strong swift of dark magic inside the room beyond the girl. She walked in, him following close by, and closed the door.

The room, or office, was fairly large, almost the size of his own potions classroom. Instead of large showings of wealth, like the outside rooms and hall ways, this room was free of statues and busts of famous wizards and witches. All that stood in this room was three tall book cases against one of the walls, filled to the top with books and strange knick knacks. A couch stood against the wall to his right, two matching chairs across from it and a glass coffee table in the middle of them. The only things left in the room was a desk, made of dark wood, full of papers and folders and strange gadgets that he saw in muggle homes. Near the side of the desk was a low table with what he believed to be a television. Merlin, Arthur Weasley would have a field day in this room.

Other then the desk, there stood a black chair with its long back to them. Severus heard brief voices over the chair. The girl finally stepped forward, fear in her eyes, and cleared her throat. The voices stopped instantly.

"Master, Sev- Professor Snape would wish to see you now. H-he demanded to see you." She said in the best calm voice she could muster.

The chair swirl around and revealed to be a man, nearly older then Severus by a few years. He had a mop of grey hair on top of his head. He had crow's feet at the ends of his emerald green eyes, showing signs of age. He had tan skin and that was covered by a fine tweed suit. In his hand held a black phone. He looked up at Severus for several moments before his face cracked into a grin. He placed the phone back on its receiver and stood up from his chair. He walked around his desk and clasped Severus' left hand in a firm hand shake.

"Ah, Professor Snape, I presume? Good, good, I see Cecilia has taken care of you well," he grin at the girl by the door who let out a faint blush and turn her attention to her shoes, "I hope you slept well. You gave us all a scare you did! Coming in half-dead and all. Pity we couldn't get to you soon but you know how business is. Rush, rush and all that." He said with a quick voice, leaving Severus no room to speak. He let go of his hand only to palce the same hand on his back and leading him to the couch to sit, "Please, sit. I'm sure you have a lot of questions!"

Severus gave a sharp stare at this man's direction but it didn't seem to scare the man at all. He frown as he was forcibly seated on the seat. The girl, Cecilia rushed forward and seem to magically produce a tray of tea with a cup of milk, sugar, and a plate of cookies. She bowed her head when she placed it on the table separating Severus and the man, who took residence in the chair in front of him.

Severus looked at the man with his ebony eyes, "Who the hell are you and where am I?" he demanded

"I'm Master Keppel and this," he gesture all around him, "Is my place of sanctuary."


End file.
